


some people long for a life that is simple and planned (tied with a ribbon)

by bonca



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), dan and phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonca/pseuds/bonca
Summary: Dan loves his job at one of the best cocktail bars in London, and working with Phil Lester makes it infinitely better until they're staying after hours, drinking all the booze and making out.





	some people long for a life that is simple and planned (tied with a ribbon)

Dan couldn't say he didn’t like his job. In fact, he might even have gone as far to say he _loved_ working in _Dandelyan_ , by far London’s best cocktail bar (in Dan’s opinion). It paid well, and the hours were pretty flexible as long as they got the work done. Not to mention, Dan got to work beside the hottest guy ever, Phil Lester (also in Dan’s opinion).

Despite being co-workers, though, they’d never actually spoken. Dan would take an order, Phil would take the next, and there would be a moment where their paths — or rather their hands — crossed to reach for the ice or the shakers, but not a single word would be spoken. It seemed like law to Dan, that talking to Phil Lester was forbidden, and there was an invisible wall between them.

That, however, never stopped Dan from sitting back and watching Phil pour a _Ti’ Punch_ or a _Strawberry Daiquiri_ and he'd admire the view. The way his hands would clasp around the shakers made Dan feel intoxicated after drinking nothing at all — not that he had never been slightly tipsy on the job before — and he couldn’t help but get carried away watching.

Phil was just too gorgeous — any sane man would rather watch him over shuffle ice into a Margarita — and Dan silently cursed him for it. He cursed the way every strand in his quiff would never fall out of its place, and how his blue eyes never seemed to desaturate (not that Dan had ever seen them up close before. He wasn’t even sure he’d live to tell the tale if he ever got the chance). He was eye candy, and much sweeter than most of the cocktails they served.

Especially the _Whiskey Sour_ Dan was pouring. It was a Tuesday night, and they were starting to wind the bar down because it was _Tuesday_. Unfortunately, the guy with the beard on the last barstool didn’t get that, and kept ordering the poison juice, as Dan called it.

Most of the other bartenders had left, leaving Dan trying to avoid small talk with the (clearly drunk) guy with the beard, and Phil to wipe the bar down.

“I can’t,” the guy with the beard, probably named Ryan or something, muttered on drunkenly. “I can’t believe he tried to steal my motorbike! What a _twat_.”

Dan didn’t care enough to listen, but gathered he was _definitely_ the type to own a motorbike after noticing his stretched lobe, untamed ginger beard and leather jacket.

Soon enough, Ryan saw himself out (or rather fell out) of the bar, leaving an agonising silence thick in the air. Dan hadn’t really enjoyed the company of Ryan, but now his absence was beginning to make the bar walls cave in on him. The silence echoed around him as he reached for the half empty glass the man had left behind.

Dan swilled it out beside the sink, and sighed. This was by far the _worst_ part of his job. He was most oftenly the last one left in the bar, caught up by some stranger that complimented his dimples as he sat there wishing he was bathing in the words of someone else. He also hated the dimmed lights the bar had at night. Dan’s boss had told him it was to give the bar a more relaxed feeling before they closed, but really it just made Dan see things in the room’s shadows that probably were not really there.

He sat the glass down on the draining board, ready to be used yet again the next evening, and turned to grab his belongings and go. What he didn’t expect to see when he spun on his heel was a shadow towering over him; shoulders broad and head jerked down to look at him. Perhaps, he thought for a moment, the shadows were very much real and he would also be left behind with the glass.

The dimmed lights made it hard to see whether or not the shadow had a face, and Dan wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ to see it. He’d rather be murdered on the soggy bar floor without knowing what his killer looked like and the expression on its face.

Until the shadow had a sloped fringe and ginger eyebrows.

“ _Oh_ ,” was all Dan could breathe out when he realised that he was not to die that night, that that was not what the universe had planned out for him. Instead, he’d broken the wall that had been somehow built between the two, and probably in the worst way possible.

“Hey,” he chirped before smirking down at Dan’s head of curls. It was so casual that Dan hated it — in fact, he despised it — and Dan didn’t know he could hate anything associated with Phil until now.

“Hi,” was all he could muster back. A weak, pathetic voice in comparison to Phil’s loud and confident one, that Dan had heard a million times over while he had been speaking to customers. Dan had also heard his laugh before, and it had made jealousy boil in his blood and seep through his pored because _some girl_ with pink earrings could make him throw his head back in so much pure laughter and Dan couldn't.

It was awkward. Dan had his lower back pressed up against the sink, and he was pretty sure some soap suds were seeping through his shirt, and Phil was standing so incredibly close to him Dan could feel his breath fall against him. He couldn’t move because that could ruin the moment — if a moment is what you could call what was going on — but he also couldn't bear dampening the back of his shirt and jeans anymore.

Phil smiled back down at Dan, and it made his breath catch somewhere in his throat, before he spoke. “Care for a drink?”

He waltzed to the other side of the bar to get some of the bottles hanging from the ceiling racks, while Dan watched him. Phil stretched up to reach two glasses, and the action resulted in his shirt lifting a little but far from enough for Dan to swoon over. There were also parts of Phil that Dan flicked his eyes over that he’d never admit to.

“I think _this_ is the safest option because nobody really drinks wine in a cocktail bar.” Phil presented an the bottle of _Rosé_ , after he watched Dan nod in response. He waddled back over to Dan and sat the two glasses down, not that he’d care to pour them.

Dan instructed, “Pass.”

He screwed open the bottle cap after Phil handed it to him, and raised it to his mouth. Dan’s lips fastened around the bottle as he held it just beneath the neck, and took a few gulps. It echoed as he smashed it back down onto the bar in between where they were sitting on the bartop. “It’s not the nicest tasting one.”

They both laughed, but Phil didn’t chuck his head back and empty his lungs, so Dan didn’t count it as a laugh.

Phil took a swig himself after they watched the bottle cap fall onto the floor. He scrunched his face up a little afterwards, and agreed with Dan that it was far from the nicest _Rosé_ they had. Cherry wasn’t a nice taste, apparently.

“So,” Phil’s voice filled the room. “Truth or dare?”

“That is _so_ lame.” Dan threw back, and it was. Two men sitting on the bartop of one of the most excellent cocktail bars in the entirety of London, at rounding up to midnight on a Tuesday, sharing from a bottle of wine and, not to mention, about to play truth or dare. After Phil gave him a taunting look, Dan agreed. “Fine. Truth or dare, Phil?”

“Dare please, Dan.”

It was the first time either of them had called each other by their first name, and for Dan at least, it seemed to roll off his tongue. It felt right, if saying someone’s name aloud could sound right.

Dan scanned the room. He was useless at thinking up dares and disagreed with anyone who said dares were the ultimate option. Dares usually meant ‘make out or do a sexual act with that one inanimate object in particular’ but for Dan, it was a waste. Truths were more fun; you could ask someone any question in the whole entire world and they’d more or less have to answer. Sure, dares were the more rebellious and funny choice, but truths let you sit down and get anything you want out of someone, whether it be who they like, what they’d do to that person, or even their favourite cocktail.

Though, Phil chose dare, and so Dan took a swig out of the bottle before he brought his finger to his chin and continued to scan the room. He settled on the easy option; drinking.

“I dare you to down a Sambuca.”

The game went on into the night. They’d lost track of how many drinks and how many _different types of drinks_ they’d had. Phil had dared Dan to give him a show on the bar, both dancing and singing, and Dan had knocked over the two forgotten and unused wine glasses in the meantime. Phil had been dared to do _the worm_ at one point, and his bones clicked as he did so. Of course, Dan teased him for hours about him being an old man.

They had also giggled and chuckled and _laughed_ , and Dan finally was able to pride in the fact that he had made Phil Lester laugh like _that_.

It was Phil’s turn to ask the question that they had begun to slur, as they were leaning up against each other, Dan’s head on Phil’s shoulder. “Truth,” he asked, slowly. “Or… dare?”

Dan’s brain was too fuzzy to really care, and so he went with truth.

“Have you ever kissed anybody?”

The question made Dan’s head spin and his cheeks drown in a deep pink. He wanted to take a gulp or two from another flavoured drink they’d gotten, but that would probably have made it painfully obvious that no, he had never kissed anybody. When he didn’t answer, Phil turned his head to look at Dan and the way his eyelashes fluttered as he looked down.

“No.” It left his lips like an empty croak, and he tried to sit up, to peel himself off Phil before embarrassment overcame him, but Phil kept him glued to his side.

He told him it was Dan’s go, as if to say _it’s okay, it doesn’t matter,_ and the more Dan thought about it, it didn’t. It didn’t matter if he’d never kissed anybody, it just meant he’d kept it for somebody to come and take it. Phil chose truth.

“Have _you_ ever kissed anybody?”

Dan had lifted his head to watch Phil’s face expression, and he both imagined and thought he heard the word _yes_ coming from his mouth. Of course he had kissed somebody, he was Phil. He was incredibly hot and probably had experience in a lot of other things, too.

“No, I have not,” he murmured as he tilted his head over to Dan and quirked his lips up.

Dan’s heart didn’t fall. It felt like it fell, but really it started beating faster than it should’ve. His whole body started to tingle slightly, his stomach tying in knots and doing a flippy-over thing that Dan wasn’t quite sure he had ever experienced before. He didn't know why, but he felt better knowing he wasn’t the loser in the room, and Phil was right there with him as he snaked his arm around Dan’s waist.

Phil dared Dan next.

“I dare you to… to let me kiss you.”

Dan grinned and let out a small giggle. He couldn't quite comprehend what Phil was saying, but what he did know was that that was not how dares worked. “Phil, that’s not – ”

It was then he realised, as Phil brought his hands up from the bottle-cluttered bar to cup Dan’s cheek, what Phil had meant. _Phil had asked him if it was okay for him to kiss him._ He had time to back out, to slide off the bar and to grab his scarf and coat and go, but he didn’t. Dan sat there, almost losing himself in the oceans of azures and cyans of Phil’s eyes.

Phil sunk his thumbs deep into Dan’s cheeks, and kept leaning forward until they both closed their eyes.

Their lips met, and softly pushed against each other and took as much in of each other as they could. It was nothing like either of them had experienced before, it was everything and nothing at once. Phil’s hands had travelled to the back of Dan’s neck as they continued to relish in the feeling of each other.

A taste of alcohol lingered on each of their lips, it was once exotic mangos and then tingling lemons, strawberries to a champagne flavoured drink that wasn’t champagne, as their bodies tangled together on the bartop.

Before he knew it, Dan’s back hit the worktop and Phil’s arms were each side of him, Phil’s lips still sliding over his. A bottle had been pushed off but they were deaf to the sound, only caring about this right now. _This moment._

It was the best kiss Dan had ever had. He had nothing to compare it to as it was his only kiss, but he didn’t need anything to compare it to to know that it was the best one he would ever have.

Maybe getting drunk after hours and drinking all the booze they were supposed to inventory hours before wasn’t the best idea they’d ever had, but it was something that could never be left a one time thing.

**Author's Note:**

> hi i kind of really suck at writing and this was my first time writing ........ kissing. feel free to come and tell me how horrible it is on tumblr @philsbear!! uwu


End file.
